


settle deep, make myself a home

by TheKitteh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Schmoop, also ghouls, and mentions of Isaac and Allison in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:52:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKitteh/pseuds/TheKitteh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Done for a tumblr prompt:<br/>"I just Derek and Stiles to make out in the rain. Like they haven’t seen each other in a while or it was after a big bloody supernatural fight and they were away from each other. And they come together and it’s raining and Stiles has his hands of Derek’s face and Derek has his hands wrapped around Stiles waist and they just kiss and it’s pouring down around them, but they could careless because they just need each other. Need to make sure the other is okay and they find comfort in one another’s warmth."</p><p>So I took it and ran with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	settle deep, make myself a home

 

 

„Jesus fucking Christ,” the curse escapes Stiles’ mouth, the dull throb of pain in his ankle flaring up as he slips on rotting leaves and mud.

Scott’s there to catch him before he tumbles down, Stiles’ fingers clenching for a brief second’s on the damp material of Scott’s jacket. he regains his balance, tries to catch his labored breath; Isaac’s coming closer, rocking the wet dog look and all, and he can hear Allison’s voice over the steady pitter-patter of rain.

“You ok, man?” Scott pats him down, reassures himself that his best friend is in one, albeit ghoul-gut-covered piece.

Seriously,  _ghouls_.

Real life, dead and walking, feed on corpses, kill by bashing heads in, ghouls. Because these are their lives.

“Where’s Derek?” He asks, wiping his face clean of rain and grime.

Stiles is drenched to the bone and then some, his ankle hurts like a bitch; he just wants to limp back to Derek’s, shower, curl up next to the man, get lost in his heat and sleep for like a year. He looks around for the familiar face, a small smile forming on his lips despite the steady pulse of pain in his leg.

A smile that falls when Derek’s nowhere to be seen, when next to him Scott tenses and looks away.  There’s a splatter of blood on his cheek, ugly and red and slowly washed away by the rain and Stiles’ stomach _churns_.

“Where’s Derek?” He grab’s Scott’s elbow and digs his fingers in.

“I lost sight of him a while ago,” Scott admits and looks  _everywhere_  except at Stiles. “He led a couple of those away, so we could get to you.”

And Stiles… Stiles forgets how to breathe. He feels like he should be collapsing right about now, with the sudden blood-rush in his head, but Scott’s hands are again holding him up. His chest is painfully tight, his lungs burning as they demand air.

_Oh God._

He didn’t notice the up-curved root, fell face first into the forest floor in a tangle of wet clothes and leaves. His ankle twisted fast and ugly, pain shooting up and immobilizing him for barely a few moments.

But it made him easy prey, the ghouls turning to him in a blink of an eye and Stiles distinctly remembers thinking  _oh shit, this is definitely it._  He also remembers Isaac tearing into a ghouls face as he scrambled to get up, sprained ankle or not, and limped towards the bat he dropped.

And Derek….Derek has…

Stiles chokes on nothing but damp air, feels the sting of rain in his eyes as the world turns grey and blurry and  _so fucking pointless._ He hears a buzzing, annoying and far, far away, and Stiles doesn’t know if it’s his thoughts all jumbled up or someone’s voice.

“Stiles!” Scott growls at him then, warm hands grabbing his face and forcing him to turn so fast something snaps painfully in his neck.

Through the haze Stiles sees something move, black shadows and sharp angles, until he blinks, forces himself to inhale and it’s Derek. A little roughed up, clothes torn and there’s so much blood ( _not his, not his_ , there are flashes of smooth and healed skin), but his step is fast and sure. He’s wiping blood from his face like that’s nothing new and only then looks up, eyes bright and electric blue and Stiles  _needs._

He’s crashing into Derek before anyone even realizes he moved at all and Derek, with his stupid reflex and stupid everything, catches him easily, large hands around his waist like they belong. Stiles reaches up, twines his fingers in the wet mess of Derek’s hair and looks at him, with mouth open and eyes wide, at this ridiculous werewolf that somehow became the best thing in his life since fucking ever.

“Don’t you do ever that,” he rasps out before he presses his mouth against Derek’s.

Sties just wants to reassure himself, to feel Derek’s breath wash over his face, but Derek slots their lips at a different angle and deepens the kiss without preamble. It’s slick with rain and tastes like all kinds of bitter-sweet desperation, the way the werewolf licks into Stiles’ mouth fierce and mind-blowing. Stiles’ fingers tug and pet and thread through Derek’s hair and he’s unable to do anything more, just hangs on and ignores the ice-cold rain falling around them.

“I’m fine,” Derek breathes somehow between one kiss and another, his hands a bruising and scalding touch underneath the wet hoodie, “I’m ok.”

“Shut up, shut up,” he chokes out, wants more, wants to inhale the scent of Derek’s skin. “You idiot, how could you, oh god, Derek!”

Stiles presses against Derek like he wants to crawl underneath his skin and make himself a home between his ribs,  nestle down deep within tissue and muscle. He thinks Derek knows, shares the same needs, because he pulls Stiles closer, digs fingers deep into his skin and holds on. He wants to get rid of everything that's between them, wants to feel the heat coming off Derek’s skin in waves and listen to the sound of his heart, but the thought of even parting to breathe causes something ice-cold to coil deep within his stomach.

And so Stiles tightens his grip, opens his mouth and feeds on the noises escaping Derek’s throat and it doesn’t even register that they’re alone among the pouring rain.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr


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